CHARLIE -
We set off for a tour of Johannesburg and Soweto. We are in a car with a brazilian couple. He says very little. She has a compulsive addiction to taking pictures of absolutely everything, including seemingly unecessary things such as the view out the back of the motorway. I find this endearing. A large chirpy black dude drives. I think his name is Pasta, although perhaps it is Pastor - I am unsure. Jamie and I are sitting in the back of the 6-seater vehicle, and Jamie seems to come into immense difficulty whenever getting in or getting out is involved. The seats in front are indeed a minor obstacle, but whereas most of the time I seem to manage it in one single manouvre, Jamie's methods are rather more haphazard. At one point I am about to get in when I notice him lying across the seat in front in a sort of missionary position, his arms flailing like a disabled seal as he attempts to crawl across it onto the seat behind. This causes me much hilarity. Apparently his knees are to blame.
Anyway, yes Johannesburg does seem slightly threatening, but I feel safe with Pasta. In Soweto we see a Favela - a collection of corrugated iron huts in which people live. They are tiny for the amount of people. They share communal portaloos, have one water pipe between them, and it all seems like a pretty awful way to live. They still seem happy though.
The Apartheid Museum is wicked. In particular we learn lots about Nelson Mandela, whose iconic face and grin I have always recognised but not until now have I realised quite what a legend he was. Repeatedly having rejected offers of freedom when the terms offered were not to his satisfaction, he eventually manages to overturn apartheid completely and become president. I find it almost disturbing how recent all these events were - well within my living memory. I remember Mr. Ott - my headmaster at prep school, who was south african. This was happening at the time that I was at that school listening to his assemblies. Did he ever mention any of it to us? Or would he have considered it too much for 7-11 year olds? I don't remember.
The Canadian girls have been replaced by two aussie guys. I cordially invite them to share our white russians but they announce that they are 'going to be boring' and go to bed at half 9. Unfortunately for them, we have chosen this as our night to get completely rat-arsed for for the first time, which is exactly what we proceed to do. Having adopted another more like-minded aussie, called Damian, we drink, watch stuff and chat about the meaning of everything until well gone 4. Even more unfortunately for the 2 sleeping aussies, the only toilet we have access to is in the dorm right by their beds, and given the regularity which with our bladders demand evacuation during the course of the session, I'm fairly confident they want us to die well before the inebriated Jamie blunders in and turns on the main light to the angry protests of 'faacksake mate' which emanate from their corner of the dorm.
JAMIE -
T - 9 hours (9am): Bed gotten out of. Breakfast eaten. Tour car entered.
T - 8 hours: Full tour group (comprising three Brazilians and ourselves) collected. Tour guide, named Pasta, drives us to Johannesburg replete with interesting historical trivia.
T - 7 hours: One of the Brazilians appears to take photographs with the crazed, indiscriminate fervour of a hailstorm; every inch of the road must be documented. We have driven through Hillborough, the rough downtown area of Jburg. It has become apparent that the South African attitude towards the Nigerians is rather negative: they are rightly or wrongly blamed for the organized crime problems in the area.
T - 5 hours: Our trip has now involved a trip to Constitutional Hill and the constitutional courts. Nelson Mandella's awesomeness is becoming increasingly apparent, as is the significance of the year 1994 (the end of Apartheid). We have enjoyed a panoramic view of the city from the 'Top of Africa' building and driven around the township of Soweto and seen some of the slums.
T - 1 hour: Lunch was positively scrumptious. Pap seems to be the base eating stuff here and it's pretty nice. Vegetables were tasty and flavoursome; the central piece was the barbecued meat - I had some lovely chicken and spicy sausage. We have also visited the Apartheid Museum, which was extremely informative (overbearingly so, at times) and Charlie and I were able to cement our understanding by communicating the info to one of our Brazilian compatriots who spoke English fluently but seemed unable to read it. Oh, and Nelson Mandella is a complete fucking legend. I know that a large number of people have already been aware of this, but I certainly didn't appreciate quite HOW much this was the case and thought it was worthy of mention here.
T - 0 hours:
Dark rum - GO
Kahlua - GO
Milk - GO
All Systems GO
We are a go. Repeat: WE ARE A GO.
Prepare for launch...
T + 4:23 in the pissing morning: Houston, we have a problem.
We set off for a tour of Johannesburg and Soweto. We are in a car with a brazilian couple. He says very little. She has a compulsive addiction to taking pictures of absolutely everything, including seemingly unecessary things such as the view out the back of the motorway. I find this endearing. A large chirpy black dude drives. I think his name is Pasta, although perhaps it is Pastor - I am unsure. Jamie and I are sitting in the back of the 6-seater vehicle, and Jamie seems to come into immense difficulty whenever getting in or getting out is involved. The seats in front are indeed a minor obstacle, but whereas most of the time I seem to manage it in one single manouvre, Jamie's methods are rather more haphazard. At one point I am about to get in when I notice him lying across the seat in front in a sort of missionary position, his arms flailing like a disabled seal as he attempts to crawl across it onto the seat behind. This causes me much hilarity. Apparently his knees are to blame.
Anyway, yes Johannesburg does seem slightly threatening, but I feel safe with Pasta. In Soweto we see a Favela - a collection of corrugated iron huts in which people live. They are tiny for the amount of people. They share communal portaloos, have one water pipe between them, and it all seems like a pretty awful way to live. They still seem happy though.
The Apartheid Museum is wicked. In particular we learn lots about Nelson Mandela, whose iconic face and grin I have always recognised but not until now have I realised quite what a legend he was. Repeatedly having rejected offers of freedom when the terms offered were not to his satisfaction, he eventually manages to overturn apartheid completely and become president. I find it almost disturbing how recent all these events were - well within my living memory. I remember Mr. Ott - my headmaster at prep school, who was south african. This was happening at the time that I was at that school listening to his assemblies. Did he ever mention any of it to us? Or would he have considered it too much for 7-11 year olds? I don't remember.
The Canadian girls have been replaced by two aussie guys. I cordially invite them to share our white russians but they announce that they are 'going to be boring' and go to bed at half 9. Unfortunately for them, we have chosen this as our night to get completely rat-arsed for for the first time, which is exactly what we proceed to do. Having adopted another more like-minded aussie, called Damian, we drink, watch stuff and chat about the meaning of everything until well gone 4. Even more unfortunately for the 2 sleeping aussies, the only toilet we have access to is in the dorm right by their beds, and given the regularity which with our bladders demand evacuation during the course of the session, I'm fairly confident they want us to die well before the inebriated Jamie blunders in and turns on the main light to the angry protests of 'faacksake mate' which emanate from their corner of the dorm.
JAMIE -
T - 9 hours (9am): Bed gotten out of. Breakfast eaten. Tour car entered.
T - 8 hours: Full tour group (comprising three Brazilians and ourselves) collected. Tour guide, named Pasta, drives us to Johannesburg replete with interesting historical trivia.
T - 7 hours: One of the Brazilians appears to take photographs with the crazed, indiscriminate fervour of a hailstorm; every inch of the road must be documented. We have driven through Hillborough, the rough downtown area of Jburg. It has become apparent that the South African attitude towards the Nigerians is rather negative: they are rightly or wrongly blamed for the organized crime problems in the area.
T - 5 hours: Our trip has now involved a trip to Constitutional Hill and the constitutional courts. Nelson Mandella's awesomeness is becoming increasingly apparent, as is the significance of the year 1994 (the end of Apartheid). We have enjoyed a panoramic view of the city from the 'Top of Africa' building and driven around the township of Soweto and seen some of the slums.
T - 1 hour: Lunch was positively scrumptious. Pap seems to be the base eating stuff here and it's pretty nice. Vegetables were tasty and flavoursome; the central piece was the barbecued meat - I had some lovely chicken and spicy sausage. We have also visited the Apartheid Museum, which was extremely informative (overbearingly so, at times) and Charlie and I were able to cement our understanding by communicating the info to one of our Brazilian compatriots who spoke English fluently but seemed unable to read it. Oh, and Nelson Mandella is a complete fucking legend. I know that a large number of people have already been aware of this, but I certainly didn't appreciate quite HOW much this was the case and thought it was worthy of mention here.
T - 0 hours:
Dark rum - GO
Kahlua - GO
Milk - GO
All Systems GO
We are a go. Repeat: WE ARE A GO.
Prepare for launch...
T + 4:23 in the pissing morning: Houston, we have a problem.
Kieran 3 - 2 J&C
ReplyDeletemainly for this; "The Apartheid Museum is wicked"
nice
I am definitely finding the dual-perspective an intriguing literary device, though I feel you can do much more with it...
Also Jamie what's pap?